Zoologist
A unique visual signature based on accords, character, and seasonality
Aldehydes cut through with crystalline brightness before the heliotrope's creamy sweetness and rain water's ozonic freshness collapse them into something far more dreamy. Lemon adds a vital green counterpoint, keeping the sugary florals from becoming immediately soft-focus.
Iris and cherry blossom establish themselves with papery, almost dusty refinement—the clover and rice intensifying that powdery accord until the composition feels almost talc-like in its matte elegance. Lotus introduces a subtle aquatic coolness that prevents the sweetness from ever dominating entirely.
Sandalwood and papyrus create a pale, woody-creamy base whilst musk adds the faintest skinlike warmth. Amber introduces gentle sweetness that lingers as an increasingly abstract impression rather than a defined scent, the fragrance gradually becoming less something you smell and more something you simply carry with you.
Dragonfly arrives as a deliberate contradiction: a fragrance that whispers rather than projects, yet carries an almost architectural complexity beneath its gossamer surface. Juan M. Perez has crafted something decidedly uninterested in performance metrics, instead privileging a kind of intimate floral whisper that demands proximity to appreciate.
The aldehydes arrive first as a crisp, almost metallic shimmer—that particular brightness associated with 1950s florals—before immediately softening into heliotrope's creamy, slightly almond-tinged sweetness. Rain water and peony dissolve the sharp edges, creating an opening that feels less like conventional fragrance and more like standing in a garden immediately after a summer downpour. The lemon operates not as a zesty top note cliché but as a subtle bitter-green counterpoint that prevents the composition from becoming cloying.
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